LEVI
THIRTEEN
Years. Fucking years to get this—get her.
She gasps, arching as my cock slides all the way inside her, but before she’s fully comfortable, I grasp her neck and yank her halfway upright, face aligned with my masked one. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to remove it now and show her our game is up.
Unfortunately, she’s not ready for the truth yet.
Her pulse beats harder beneath my fingers, matching my thrusts. I’ll fuck her until she’s raw, limp, with nowhere to go but back beneath me.
“Did you assume what I said were simply words? I meant them, Summer. It’s a goddamned promise.
Our connection won’t be severed when we’re home because it’s been forming this entire time.
From the day you provided your real name, you’ve guaranteed this ending.
No other man will touch you, see you, fucking speak to you.
I’ll treat you like a queen in front of others, and we’re alone, the slut you are. ”
A speech given by Levi more than Hunter.
I drop her back to the bed and hike her thighs up to my waist, sinking as deep as possible. She’ll feel me tomorrow, I’ll make sure of it.
I rub her breasts, flicking her nipples until they’re the same shade as her lips. “My plaything doesn’t need an out, does she?”
Her head jerks back and forth, pleading for me to live inside her. Sweat beads on her forehead, her expression something between neediness and longing. Still, she breathes, “Never.”
“That’s because you were made for this, weren’t you? Made for me? For my cock?”
“Yes.”
I grip her hair, relishing how it keeps her in place. She fights, but the fantasy dies almost immediately. I grip her thigh in my other hand, spreading her wide as I relentlessly thrust into her.
We both need this, and I’m done waiting.
She comes with a careening cry—a sob, almost—as relief pours from her. She clamps tight around me until I come, flooding her insides with the proof she’s mine.
Summer drops to the bed almost immediately, exhaustion making her heavy in my arms. Behind the mask that is entirely too hot now, I smile.
This is going exactly as planned.
I reach up to undo her wrists and then roll from the bed, zipping up my pants as I silently head for the bathroom. There, I shut the door while running the warm water, splashing some beneath my mask before fixing it back into place.
Her smile is wide and genuine when I return with a wet cloth and start cleaning between her legs. “Who knew you had a sweet side?”
“I’ve always been sweet to you.”
“True.” She sighs and shuts her eyes, letting me wipe her down, only speaking again once I’ve returned from hanging the cloth to dry. “Thank you for that. It’s what I needed. Or the start of it anyway.”
“Your pleasure is my own. I told you, we’ll get you feeling better.”
She watches me move around the room, turning off lights I switched on to clean her. Then, I fix the blankets back around her body and remove the rope, tossing it by the door to take with me.
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?”
Cuddling with her as Hunter could go south very quickly. She’s snuggled into me as Levi many times before, so it’s possible she’ll recognize my body. Or, if I pass out before her—which can’t happen—she could peek beneath the mask.
Yet, the sight of her in bed, the blanket drawn up to her breasts, hair mussed, body flushed from sex, means never leaving her feeling uncared for. Silently, I slide into the bed beside her but remain on top of the blankets.
Before settling, she reaches over to tap her phone’s screen.
“Curious what time it—” Abruptly, she yanks herself away from me and grabs the phone, swiping it manically alive.
“What the fuck?” she breathes. Her head jerks up to the door, then to me, then the phone.
“You did this, right? Please tell me you did.”
“Did what?”
Who the fuck will I be killing?
She angles the phone my way to display a picture of us from last night, sitting in the ocean’s shallow waves, taken from afar but zoomed in, if the subtle blur is any indication.
It’s a message. Someone is threatening my girl. There’s only one hunter in Summer’s life, and that’s me. Anyone else is a risk to extinguish.
As the sensation of craving a stranger’s death creeps up, I click out of the photo and check the number that sent it, mentally repeating the digits until they stick.
My mind scrambles for a response. Telling her I’m not the sender will cause her stress. Lying could lead to follow-up questions.
“Block that number immediately.”
Only after witnessing her obey do I leave bed and rush out of her cabana, taking the extra-long route back to mine. Once inside and confident she didn’t see, I yank the mask off and dial the unknown caller. The call goes through for two rings before it’s picked up.
“What?” a man’s voice barks. “Who is this? How’d you get this number?” It’s deep, gravelly, and semi-familiar.
“Same question. Who the fuck are you, and why are you contacting Summer?”
The call dies, so I quickly redial. It’s ignored at first, but three attempts later, it goes through with another barked, “What the fuck do you want?”
“For you to stay away from Summer. Why are you calling her?”
Silence permeates before the deep voice laughs. Familiarity settles in my gut—I’ve heard that laugh before, recently. Across a courtroom from a man without a soul.
His gaze lands on Summer, then me, before he laughs. The judge bangs his gavel, demanding her father answer the question.
“Yeah,” he finally grates between laughs that are anything but happy. “Yeah, it was me. The bitch deserved it.”
“Boy, I remember you.”
Summer’s father.
Her father, who should be in prison. If the picture he sent her is any indication, he’s here, in her vicinity.
Someone fucked up. Someone is about to lose their job and maybe worse, because Summer, as the victim, should have been contacted by the police, and the prison is well aware to call me. A woman’s life is potentially in danger, and it’s up to me to keep her safe.
Instead, he’s out, and not even one fucking text message. My grip tightens around the device; the only thing preventing me from snapping it is the person on the opposite end of the line.
I’ll get her away from here, somewhere safe. Maybe to one of my father’s private islands in Greece, where she’ll never be permitted to leave. Anything to protect her.
“You put me in prison,” he adds, as if I haven’t pieced it together. “That was troublesome.”
“How’d you get out?”
“Transfers don’t have enough guards to watch everyone.”
My hand rubs through my hair, yanking on the strands.
It was me who pushed for the transfer. In a way, I’m at fault for this.
“I’ll find you,” I growl into the speaker.
“You’re on my territory, and don’t deny it.
You sent Summer a picture, which was a mistake.
When I find you, there won’t be a body to return to prison. ”
He tsks in my ear. “You did well, hiding her within your family’s wealth, but you forgot something.”
With a hollow feeling I plan on filling with his death, I bark, “What?”
“She was mine before she was anyone else’s. And she’ll be mine again. No one will keep my daughter from me.”
Click.
I tear across the sand, back towards Summer’s place. While it’s as I’ve left it and no noises come from inside, I won’t rest until knowing she’s absolutely safe.
With my key card, I slip inside. The room is dark, lights drawn, the body in the bed resting on her stomach again, passed out. I cross to her, visually tracing the lines of her body up to her shoulders.
Given I’m without my mask, I leave before she wakes, checking the bathroom, second bedroom, every shadow and corner, before leaving.
I return to my rooms, dragging a chair from the back deck to settle into.
There, I watch and wait.